Protect Me
by Cadsuane
Summary: Story dealing with the traumatic childhood of Gaia Surana and the fallout of those events later in life. Was formerly a one-shot, but plans changed. Mature content.
1. Chapter 1

This is a oneshot written for a friend on the bioware forums for one of her characters. It was born of a discussion on how being broken at a young age affects the characters and what the ramifications for that character will be. This is not pleasant, and while nothing explicit happens, mature themes are referenced and hinted at. Please do not read if you are sensitive or if such things offend you. Please do not comment to say such things offend you. Thank you.

* * *

Gaia shifted on her filthy pallet, the dry straw digging in and rubbing against raw and aching limbs. The chains of her manacles clinked slightly with her movements, the sound seemingly muffled by the all-encompassing darkness. Her throat and mouth were raw and dry, and she was desperate for something to drink. Master always left a bucket of water in the room, but she couldn't see it in the dark. Hopefully, he had left it where he normally did.

She pulled herself upright, whimpering as her bruised and battered body protested. The last time he came to her, Master had beaten her much worse than usual. A quick check revealed no broken bones, and she breathed a ragged sigh of relief. She ignored the dried blood she found on her thighs. Master wouldn't have left her enough water to wash off with. He seemed to prefer her dirty. "Filthy little knife-eared whore," he would whisper when he came to her, when he pinned her beneath him and took her.

Pulling herself across the floor in a sort of half crawl-half drag, she moved towards where she knew the door would be. Gaia's fingers scraped along the dirty stones until they bumped into the wooden bucket. She curled her small body around the bucket, lifting it with shaking arms so she could tilt some water into her mouth. Her hands were clumsy, though, and spilled some. Cursing softly, she licked the water off her hands, ignoring the taste of dirt, blood and other things. It was too precious to waste.

The first sip of water made her thirst worse, and she struggled against drinking as much as she could greedily. It would only make her sick. She paces herself, taking slow sip after slow sip. As her thirst abated, it left behind a gnawing hunger in her stomach, much worse than usual. How long had she been unconscious?

She frowned in the darkness, trying to think. She didn't remember much from Master's last visit. Her back burned from where his whip had cut through her skin, and there was a dull ache between her legs, but she didn't recall passing out from Master's beating. There was…something else.

Easing the bucket back down, she crawled back to her straw pallet, the only small softness in the small room. She curled up, her back pressed to the wall. The rough stones hurt where they scratched the cuts on her skin, but the coldness of the stone felt good. She lay there, thinking. Snatches of memory came back to her as she concentrated.

Master beating her, raining blows upon her frail body with hard, angry fists. And then Master…screaming? Master fleeing from the room, clutching his face as she fell unconscious on her pallet. Gaia shook her head and buried her face in the straw. She had made Master angry and she would pay for it when next he came. Perhaps if he let her apologize, it wouldn't be so bad. She fell asleep wondering how she would make amends.

The sound of booted feet approaching the door roused her from her uneasy slumber. She moved quickly, kneeling upright, head down and arms by her side. She shivered, both from cold and fear. She heard the key turning in the lock and tried to steel herself.

The door was flung open and bright light flooded into the room. She cried out and snapped her eyes shut. It was too bright and the light stabbed painfully into eyes long accustomed to little or no light.

"Maker's blood!" The voice wasn't Master's, but she dared not raise her head to see who it was. "She's a child!"

The sound of more people approaching filled her with terror. What was happening? She heard the sound of metal clinking and cloth rustling as someone knelt in front of her.

"Get a blanket, something, anything to cover her with!" a voice growled from above her head. "Move, man! And someone find the key to these chains!"

She gingerly slit her eyes open, the light still bright but blocked by the form of the man in front of her. Lifting her head slightly, she took in the purple cloth that formed the skirt of his outfit, the gleaming silver of the armor that covered his upper body. There was a sword etched on the front of that armor and she thought she should know it.

Raising her head a bit more, she cast a hasty glance at the face of the man in front of her. He had dark hair shot with grey, and a stern, harsh face. He was looking over his shoulder, and when he turned back to look at her, she dropped her eyes guiltily. She hunched down, waiting for the blow that would come after a display of defiance like that.

Instead, however, his gauntleted hand rested on her head gently. "Easy, lass," he said quietly. "No one's going to hurt you. Not anymore. We'll have you out here soon and we're taking you someplace safe. You'll be all right."

He kept his hand on her head as she tried to puzzle out what he was saying. She couldn't leave. Master would never allow it. "I'm sorry, ser," she whispered in a tiny, pleading voice. "I can't go with you. Master says I am never to leave here."

The hand on her head shook slightly. "The man who called himself your master and kept you here is dead, child." His voiced grated with satisfaction as he spoke. "He has no control over you anymore. You're coming with us and we will make sure you are safe and taken care of."

Gaia looked up, her green eyes huge in her thin face. The man in front of her was looking down, pity etched in his features. Behind him, another man, dressed as he was, rushed into the room and handed him a blanket, averting his eyes from her form. She felt shame crawl through her. Master always said she was ugly, and now she knew it to be true. But the older man's eyes never left her as he took the blanket and carefully wrapped it around her.

When another man entered and handed him a key, he used to unlock the chains that bound her hands and feet. They fell to the floor in a noisy clatter and her limbs felt strangely light, almost alien without them. Wrapping the blanket more tightly about her, he stood and gathered her in his arms, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. He carried her out of the room, shifting to shield her face with his hand as the brighter light of the corridor burned her eyes.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

"I am Ser Elgin, child. I am a templar and I've come to take you to the Circle. You will be safe there. There are others like myself there, and they will watch over and protect you."

A templar. She turned the word over in her mind. A templar had rescued her and other templars would look after her. Templars would protect her. A small smile touched her lips. She wouldn't ever give the templars a reason to be mad at her. They saved her. They would protect her.

Templars were good.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, so obviously I lied about this being a one-shot. Gaia wouldn't leave me alone and we both felt her character needed more explanation as to just how broken she is. This is smutty, and I don't even pretend to be good at this kind of stuff. I just want people to get a feel for the character. It's entirely possible more of her story will come out, especially given the ending, but I make no promises.

Enjoy?

* * *

**Chapter Two**

It was late and Gaia covered a yawn with a hand. Senior Torrin didn't need the paper for another week yet, but she hoped if she finished early she might be able to get some more actual practice in. The senior enchanters always favored students who put in extra effort. Dipping her quill in the ink, she jotted down another note and smiled. Perhaps if he really liked her paper, he would help her with her healing spells.

The sounds of metal boots walking up behind her quietly made her sit up a little straighter. She didn't need to turn around to know it was the templar who had been standing at the doorway behind her. As she was the last apprentice in the library tonight, the templars only left one of their own to guard the large room. A steel encased hand stroked the soft skin of the back of her neck. She sighed and leaned into the touch, books and notes in front of her forgotten.

A few strokes more and the hand pulled away. The footsteps receded behind her and she hurriedly stood to her gather books and notes. She tucked them under her arm, and with a cautious glance up and down the empty hallway, practically scurried to a little used storeroom.

She set her belongings down and touched a particular spot on an empty shelf and stood back as a hidden door swung open. She stepped through and pulled the false shelf shut behind her.

Inside the small room, a single lamp was lit and hung from a hook in the wall. The only furnishings were a battered desk and chair and a narrow bed. The templar stood waiting for her, feet braced slightly apart, hands clasped behind his back. She stood before him, her eyes fixed on the sword engraved onto his breastplate.

"Undress me." His voice, low and rough, was muffled by his helm. As she knelt before him to start undoing his sash, she wondered why they always left their helms on. When the sash was undone, she folded it carefully and stood to drape it over the back of the chair. The skirt of his armor was next, her nimble fingers undoing the fastenings. That, too, was folded and placed on the chair. She dropped back to her knees for a third time to begin undoing the laces armored leather breeches all templars wore under the skirts.

Her fingers brushed his arousal as she worked at the laces and he grunted. She continued tugging on the laces until she freed him. She sat back on her heels and looked up at him, waiting.

"Take your robes off."

Gaia stood quickly, undoing the ties and letting her robes fall to the floor where she kicked them off to the side along with her shoes.

She wore nothing underneath.

The templar's breathing turned slightly ragged behind his helm and he reached out a gauntleted hand to fist in her short, red hair. He shoved her to her knees and pressed her head forward. Gaia complied willingly, opening her mouth and reaching out a hand to guide him into her.

Licking and sucking, scraping gently with her teeth, her head bobbed up and down his length. He moaned and bucked his hips and she angled her head to better take all of him into her, bracing one hand on his hip and the other around the base of his arousal.

He came with a shudder and a groan, and she swallowed deeply, being careful not to make a mess on the floor. He stood there panting heavily, hand still clenched in her hair as she cleaned him. When she was finished, she sat back and looked up at him, waiting. She wondered what he looked like behind the helm, if his face revealed any pleasure in what he saw before him.

His other hand came forward to wrap around her neck, caressing her skin. As his thumb stroked the pale column of her throat, he grew hard again. This time, he pulled her to her feet by her hair. She hissed slightly as her hair caught in his gauntlet and several strands ripped free. He spun her quickly and shoved her across the top of the desk.

She cried out as the wood bit into the tops of her thighs and her breasts were crushed against the desk. With a foot, he spread her legs and stepped up to her. He used one hand to pin her thin arms together behind her back and the other to guide himself into her swiftly. His free hand settled into a crushing grip on her hip as he started to thrust into her.

With every thrust, her breasts were ground against the wood and she could feel the bruises forming on her thighs. His armor scraped on her buttocks and she knew his grip on her arms and hips would also leave bruises. He grunted and groaned every time he withdrew and filled her again. She wasn't sure how long it took, but eventually his movements lost their rhythm and he thrust harder and deeper into her. And when he spilled into her with a low groan, she smiled.

He lay over her for several minutes, his breathing raspy behind the steel mask. When he moved away from her, she remained where she was.

"Clean me up and redress me."

Gaia slid back off the desk and knelt before him once more, lips and tongue attending to the task. When she was done, she laced his breeches back up and retrieved his other garments from the chair. Once they were refastened and tied, she smoothed them to make sure they were straight and neat.

The gauntleted hand reached down to tip her chin up so she was looking at him. He stroked her hair gently. "Good girl," he murmured and she smiled brilliantly up at him. Then he pressed the latch that opened the hidden door from this side. She waited until it had closed behind him before retrieving her robes. From an inner pocket, she removed the soft cloth she always carried with her and cleaned herself up.

Gaia refolded the cloth and shook her robes out. They weren't too wrinkled and within moments she had them back on and fastened properly. She placed the cloth back into a pocket and left the room, gathering her belongings before checking to make sure the hallway was clear. She slipped into the dormitory as quietly as she could to avoid waking anyone up. As she set her books and notes down on her locker and changed quickly into a sleeping shift, she wondered if she would be able to finish her paper for Senior Torrin tomorrow.

The next night found her in the library again. She was putting the finishing touches on her paper and grinned. Senior Torrin would be most pleased. She looked up when the templar by the door cleared his throat. He was taller, thinner than the templar from last night, but he was looking at her. When he jerked his head in a sharp nod, she capped her inkwell and began putting her books away. By the time she returned, the ink should be dry on her report and she could hand it in to Senior Torrin in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Cullen was a very strange templar, Gaia finally decided. The other templars were easier to figure out. There were the ones she gave herself to, the ones who politely rebuffed her thinly veiled offers and the ones that ignored her completely.

But not Cullen. No, he was different. He talked to her, or tried to anyway. Very often he would end up stuttering, tripping over his tongue. He wanted her, she could tell that much. But every overture she made seemed to either go right over his head or send him fleeing, cheeks crimson in embarrassment, like he had just moments ago. She wondered why he didn't just take her like the others. Would she have to strip in front of him before he got the point?

She pondered that as she made her way to the First Enchanter's office. Jowan had told her Irving wanted to see her and it was best not to tarry. Her steps slowed as she approached the open door. Irving was not alone. Greagoir and an unknown man were inside his office, and Irving and the Knight-Commander were arguing. Neither of the two men in charge of the tower noticed her entrance, but the stranger's dark gaze immediately sought her out.

"Gentlemen, please. Irving, someone is here to see you." The stranger's voice was calm, smooth and bore the unmistakable tone of command. She greeted Irving politely, nodded to Greagoir as he stormed off, and listened politely as the First Enchanter explained why had summoned her. Trying to hide a frown, she greeted Duncan. Why would Irving be so concerned about whether she knew about the Grey Wardens or the war?

Shrugging, she took the items Irving handed her and agreed to escort Duncan to his quarters. The Grey Warden was silent as he walked behind her, and the couple of times she turned around, she found him looking at her—studying her, appraising her. It made her think of what the templars must look like behind their steel helms, and she shivered. She showed him to his door, murmured a hurried goodbye and went back to her room to change.

Her room. This was the best part of being a real mage. True, she did still share it with three other mages, but there were at least walls dividing their sleeping spaces. Bookcases and wardrobes were further arranged to afford more privacy. And the bed…. She bit her lip. The bed was exquisite—soft and more than big enough for two people. Perhaps the templars would like to join her here instead of their usual spots.

She slipped her new robes on, admiring them. These were much nicer than the apprentice robes, soft and intricately detailed. She could feel the enchantments that had been woven into the cloth. And they fit her perfectly, clinging to her form in all the right areas.

Smoothing the fabric beneath her fingers, Gaia hummed happily to herself. Perhaps she could do a little reading in the library before dinner. And then maybe after that, she wouldn't be wearing her new robes for very long. Closing the door behind her, she turned and very nearly ran into Jowan.

"I need to talk to you."

When they left the basement, Gaia was furious. She had done as Irving asked, without question. She knew Jowan and Lily had to be stopped, but the man could have at least warned her about what awaited them down there. The specters hadn't been anything she couldn't handle, and maybe Irving knew that, but it was still infuriating.

But at least they were done. Jowan had shattered his phylactery and now he and Lily were giggling like children. She would be glad to be rid of them.

"We did it! I can't believe it! Thank you... we could never have—"

"So what you said was true, Irving."

Greagoir strode through the door, Irving at his side and templars behind him. Gaia sighed in relief. She always felt a little more secure when Greagoir was around and she hadn't known what she was going to do if there hadn't been _someone_ there to handle Jowan.

She stood by as Jowan and Lily attempted to defend themselves, though she felt a little dismayed by Greagoir's use of the term "lackey." Hadn't she proved she was loyal to the Circle? Wasn't helping to apprehend a mage trying to become an apostate something Greagoir should be proud of her for doing?

That dismay turned into full blown shock when Jowan drew a dagger and sliced his own palm open. The fact that he _had_ been a blood mage, that he had the guts to go and do something that drastic, was staggering. She saw the same shock painted on the faces of those around her. She took a couple steps back, waiting as the templars began to focus their will and not wanting to be caught in the effects.

But Jowan was faster, his magic rippling out from him before the templars could bring their skills, either with steel or will, to bear. Her vision dimmed, and as her strength drained and her legs crumpled, she saw the others also falling to floor, cut down like mown wheat before the scythe.

She regained consciousness with a groan, getting weakly to her feet and moving towards the prone form closest to her. Irving. She began to gather the mana for a healing spell, but he sat up before she could cast. Looking around, she saw the others also beginning to stir and was glad none appeared injured.

Greagoir was furious, and Gaia couldn't blame him. A blood mage was too dangerous to exist and now one had escaped with no way to track him.

"And you. You were in a repository full of magics that are locked away for a reason."

Gaia blinked at the Knight-Commander. Surely he couldn't think she would have taken anything?

"Did you take anything important from the repository?"

"No! Of course not!"

"But your antics have made a mockery of this Circle! Ah... what are we to do with you?" Greagoir was angry, frustrated and for some reason seemed to be directing it towards her. To her horror, she watched Irving and Greagoir argue, and realized that under Irving's orders or not, she was in trouble.

"Knight-Commander, if I may... I am not only looking for mages to join the king's army. I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens." Duncan had entered unnoticed, and Gaia didn't know whether to be grateful that he directed Greagoir's anger away from her or upset that he was interrupting the Knight-Commander.

But Duncan's words did not soothe Greagoir's wrath. She felt herself shrinking under his censure, feeling miserable that she had upset him. Perhaps she should have gone to him instead of Irving. Maybe she should have gone to both of them. How could he believe that she would do anything to harm the templars or the Circle?

"Greagoir is right. I should face the consequences," she said quietly.

"Hmph. Perhaps not all our lessons have been lost. She knows her place!" She felt a tingle of pride at those words. Perhaps her punishment would not be so terrible, though whatever Greagoir chose to mete out would undoubtedly be deserved.

To her horror, not only did both Duncan and Irving argue against that, they seemed determined to see her recruited into the Grey Wardens. And then the Right of Conscription was mentioned.

"You can't!" she burst out. "My home in here, with the tem—with the Circle!" But her protests fell on deaf ears. Though Greagoir railed against it, Irving and Duncan were implacable and her fate was sealed.

"Am I to leave the Circle forever?" Tears stung at her eyes. She didn't want to leave. This was her home. She was safe here, sheltered under the ever-constant gaze of the templars. And now she was being torn from it, forced out against her will and having disappointed the very people she tried so hard to please.

Irving took slight pity on her. "The Circle never forgets its apprentices, but the Grey Wardens shall be your family now," he said kindly, and she wanted to scream at him. The Grey Wardens would _never_ be her family, they could _never_ protect her the way the templars could.

She felt Duncan's hand at her shoulder, turning her and guiding her from the room. She looked back over her shoulder, towards Greagoir and other templars, trying desperately to apologize with her eyes, hoping that some day they could forgive her.


End file.
